


No Fire without Smoke

by Nomader



Series: Partners [8]
Category: Laramie (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Jealousy, M/M, Soul-Searching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:54:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29118567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nomader/pseuds/Nomader
Summary: Jess and Slim do some serious thinking about the expectations and responsibilities of friendship. Separately. Now all they need to do is talk to each other ...
Relationships: Jess Harper/Slim Sherman
Series: Partners [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1255892
Comments: 7
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

#  **1**

“When your heart's on fire

you must realize

smoke gets in your eyes ...”

_Smoke gets in your eyes,_ Otto Harbach

“Jonesy?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask y’ something?”

“Sure, but I’ll save y’ some time! Food ain’t gonna be ready f’ at least an hour, I’d lend y’ m’ last dollar but I ain’t gotta cent, an’ I ain’t pressin’ y’ second best shirt again.”

“I’ve gotta second best shirt?” Jess looked up, baffled, from the harness he was mending.

The old man considered him carefully. “Well, y’ got the one y’ wearing, the one in the wash, the one waiting t’ have a rip mended – they’re all pretty much the same. Then there’s the one hangin’ on the end o’ y’ bunk.”

“That’s my best shirt!” Jess objected.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Jonesy retorted. “Slim does pay y’ enough t’ buy a new one, y’know, and y’ sure ain’t gonna impress any pretty young ladies in the one that’s hangin’ up!”

Jess grinned. He knew when his leg was being soundly pulled. Sure enough, Jonesy limped over and sat opposite him at the table.

“So if I ain’t answered y’ every need, what did y’ wanna ask?”

The grin disappeared abruptly. Jess said tentatively, “Is it okay if I ask y’ what Smokey was like?”

Jonesy considered him carefully again, this time in all seriousness. He scratched his chin thoughtfully. Jess sat quite still, waiting, his hands resting on the mended bridle.

“He was a big man. Height for height with Slim. Broader though. Built like the side of a mountain, y’ could say. But careful with it. Y’ could tell right away - not one t’abuse his strength. Blond, so he could’ve been an elder brother t’ Slim - except for the beard. His beard was darker, tawny, and he’d grey eyes, like woodsmoke. That’s how he got his name, Slim said.”

Silence followed this description.

When you’re shy of six foot in your boots, lean as a mountain lion and share all its wiry strength – when you’re dark as the Ace of Spades and your persistent shadowy stubble never yet made a beard – when your eyes are brilliant blue and liable to flame with fury when your regrettably short fuse is lit ......

Jess gave a slight shrug and continued to pursue his quest for information. “Slim said he was kind.”

It was Jonesy’s turn to shrug. “Didn’t ever meet him above a couple o’ times. He was quiet-like, polite t’ his elders.”

“You sayin’ I ain’t?” the young man asked with a smile.

“I’m sayin’ y’ve got the cheek of the devil, for all y’ can lay on the charm when y’ need to,” Jonesy smiled back. Affection in his tone counterbalanced the reprimand in his words.

“An’ trouble’s m’ shadow!”

“It sure does seem t’ come trailin’ after y’!” Jonesy agreed.

“And Smokey came trailin’ after Slim?”

“Yeah. Just turned up here one day. Bit like you did.”

Jess shook his head. He knew Jonesy understood that he had been tracking Pete Morgan. Pursuing a man who had robbed and nearly killed you was a far cry from seeking out someone you had guided and supported, a friend you had fought alongside and survived with. The last thought brought a stab of longing through Jess’s heart for the warmth and intimacy of the _Salvajes_ which he had shared in the same circumstances. Had Smokey sought to renew such closeness with Slim or was his a simple brotherly friendship?

“Was that when y’ met him?”

“Yeah. He ate with us, but he wouldn’t stay. Said he’d got to be in Laramie early. Guess he was just tryin’ t’ see how he stood with Slim, how things were between them.”

“An’ how were they?”

Jonesy looked thoughtful. “I think Slim was kinda surprised t’ see him. Pleased, but surprised. Like he didn’t realise he had a friend who’d come t’ find him.”

Jess nodded. “Yeah. I guess when he came home first he’d’ve been all caught up in gettin’ the ranch runnin’ again.”

“And dealin’ with his pa’s death. And then his ma, not long after.”

“Ain’t that when y’ need friends most?” Jess said. “Not the ones who’re just there for the good times but the ones who’ll throw y’ a rope when y’ sinkin’ ...” He fell silent again. Part of the closeness and strength of companionship with his own comrades had come from sharing the loss of those who mattered most personally to one or other of you.

A slight frown creased Jonesy’s forehead. “Slim ain’t never had much time for friends. He was on his own as a boy, just keepin’ his pa company. An’ establishin’ this place took all day, every day – no time for meetin’ or playin’ much as a kid, or even later on when he was grown for relaxin’ once in a while, dancin’ or drinkin’. In a way, y’ could say he had t’ be a loner.”

\- _Guess that accounts f’ him not expectin’ much fun! -_

Jess frowned in his turn. “People think driftin’s a lonely business and so it is in some ways. But y’ ain’t gonna survive unless y’ can be happy bein’ alone an’ just as happy t’ take friendship when it’s offered. Even if it’s only for a while.”

“You’ve had a lotta friends.”

“Yeah, I guess I have. Some just in passin’. Some I’ll never see again.” - _An’ some that’ll betray y’ ... sell y’ out ... use y’ like y’ ain’t got no feelin’ nor worth. –_ “An’ some’ll be around when they’re needed.”

“Or when they need you!” Jonesy observed shrewdly.

A wry grin touched Jess’s lips. “Like I said, that’s what friends are for.”

“That’s the kind o’ friend you are,” the old man told him softly. “No matter whether it’s a good friendship or not, y’ the kind who stays loyal an’ ain’t gonna give up on anyone.”

Jess ducked his head as he always did when trying to conceal some strong emotion. Jonesy had a notion there was fire running through the young man’s heart and mind. He waited patiently.

“What kinda friend was Smokey?” Jess asked presently, with commendable control of his tone.

“Didn’t ever meet him above a couple o’ times,” Jonesy repeated. “Second time was when he took his first stage through.”

“The day he was killed.”

“Yeah.” Jonesy believed even if Jess could lie creatively when the occasion called, he was honest and deserved honesty. “I guess he was a kind friend all right. Slim said as much. Said Smokey’d looked after him during the war. You know the sorta thing.”

Jess nodded. – _Yeah, y’ know how much y’ miss that sorta thing! Like a fire inside y’ that ain’t gonna get put out! But it surely can’t’ve been like that for Slim? Otherwise no way would he be so dense about pickin’ up signals_! –

“Once Smokey moved t’ Laramie, they met a few times, had a few drinks. Slim never told us much about him, only said the Overland manager praised Smokey’s work as a guard and he was shapin’ up fine as a driver. An’ he got on well with folk in the town. But Slim didn’t meet up with him very often - y’ know how much work there is here an’ Slim was on his own then.”

“He didn’t offer Smokey m ... the job?”

“No. Smokey’d already got a permanent job with the stage line. He was set t’ make Laramie his home.”

\- _So it ain’t that they couldn’t work together. Not that y’d expect that anyway, if they served an’ fought together_ ... –

Jonesy was still watching Jess closely. He paused, reviewing what he knew, before deciding to share his own opinion. “I guess that’s why Smokey gettin’ killed hit Slim so hard. He probably thought they’d have years of both workin’ for the stage line, time t’ let friendship grow slow. When Smokey died, he’d’ve felt guilty f’ not bein’ a closer friend right from the start.”

“An’ he seems t’ have shut down, only cared about the ranch, instead of tryin’ to be a friend t’ anyone anymore.”

“Like he didn’t trust his feelins,” Jonesy agreed. “an’ thought he’d let down a friend in need. Smokey’d come t’ Laramie because Slim was here an’ when that put him in danger Slim hadn’t done his duty in protectin’ him.”

“There’s no earthly way he could’ve stopped Choctaw Johnson!” Jess asserted fiercely. “He wasn’t even there!”

“Yeah, well, y’ should be gettin’ t’ know the way Slim thinks by now,” Jonesy pointed out. “He ain’t gonna let a little matter o’ twenty miles or so free him up from his responsibilities.”

“Comin’ home the other night, I stopped the wagon at the graveyard,” Jess confessed suddenly. “I was hopin’ he could make peace with what’d happened.”

“I guess y’ were right,” Jonesy told him. “Yeah, I’d say he’d made peace with Smokey.” The old man stood up stiffly and came round to where Jess was sitting. His hand touched Jess’s shoulder for a moment. “Now you gotta do the same.”


	2. Chapter 2

#  **2**

So, I smile and say:

"When a lovely flame dies

smoke gets in your eyes ..."

_Smoke gets in your eyes,_ Otto Harbach

“Jonesy?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, but I’ll save y’ some time! Food ain’t gonna be ready f’ at least an hour, I ain’t gonna add up dollars an’ cents for y’, an’ all y’ clean shirts are in y’ drawer.”

“Huh?” Slim swivelled round away from his desk, where he was working on the stage-line accounts. His eyebrows were somewhere near his hairline.

Jonesy dropped a handful of clean cutlery on the table in preparation for the evening meal, then ambled over and eased himself down on the window-seat next to the desk.

“So - if I ain’t answered y’ every need, what did y’ wanna ask?”

“I was thinking about friends,” Slim said abruptly, truthfully and somewhat bashfully.

Jonesy considered him carefully. He scratched his chin thoughtfully. Slim had turned back to the desk and sat quite still, waiting, his hands resting on the accounts book.

“An’ y’ ain’t had that many t’ think about,” the old man observed shrewdly.

“No.” Slim shook his head in agreement. It was not a fact he could deny or ignore, but it was one he found hard to express. “And when I lost Smokey, it was ...” Slim hesitated, searching for words again. “It was like a bright flame suddenly being blown out!” He paused again, almost taken aback by his own vivid description. “Blown out before I’d really seen the light of it. It sounds crazy to say, but I’d hardly realised yet that we _were_ friends.”

“Not even when y’ came back from the war?”

“Especially not then. Coming back – it was like coming awake after a bad dream, like finding your footing again when you’d been picked up and thrown about by a twister. I guess I was so glad to find home was still here, I didn’t want to think about what was behind me.”

“An’ y’ had troubles enough t’ deal with,” Jonesy reminded him sympathetically.

“Yeah. I guess Ma and the ranch and Andy took all my attention. I forgot what had happened during the war. I forgot Smokey and what he’d done.”

“An’ what was that?”

“Kept me from getting my fool head blown off for a start!” Slim said with a slight grin. “Made sure I ate ... taught me how make a meal out of nothing much ... gave me his last round of ammunition once ... took a bullet out of me and patched me up ... made me laugh ... shared whatever we had ... always stuck by my side ...”

“An’ you did the same for him?”

Slim paused, deep in thought. “I tried. It was easy to follow his lead, because he was brave and honest and kind to everyone. But when he turned up to work for the Overland, I wasn’t sure if things could be the same.” He gave a shrug and a small, self-deprecating chuckle. “I guess I wanted to find out if we were still friends when nobody was shooting at us!”

“But Smokey thought y’ were?”

“Yeah, he did. He trusted in our friendship. In me. Until it all went wrong.” There was another long pause before Slim continued, “Then it was too late. I hadn’t made opportunities to work out how to act in peacetime. I hadn’t stuck by his side when he needed it. I hadn’t been a friend the way he was. So afterwards I just ...” Another pause. “I felt I wasn’t cut out to be that kind of a friend.” And a heartfelt gulp. “Not until Jess turned up. And now, suddenly ...”

“Suddenly y’ ain’t so sure again,” Jonesy filled in for him gently.

“Yeah. I thought maybe I had a second chance. But I didn’t stick by Smokey and I was angry with Jess. Everything that’s happened ... the payroll run ... and then this business with the Judge ...”

“Y’ though y’d sent Jess out deliberately an’ a bullet could get him, same as Smokey?”

“If it had ...” Slim whispered painfully. “If it had, how would I have forgiven myself?”

“Are y’ still grievin’ over not protectin’ Smokey?” Jonesy asked bluntly.

“No,” Slim said at once. “The gang was brought to justice. He can lie peaceful now.”

“I reckon the dead are a lot less restless than the livin’,” Jonesy observed. “It’s us that fret ourselves sick about what mighta bin.”

“Comin’ home the other night, Jess stopped the wagon at the graveyard,” Slim admitted suddenly. “He said he reckoned I had a visit to pay. Like he was hoping I could make peace with what’d happened.”

“Guess he was right?” Jonesy suggested. “That’s what y’ just said ...”

Slim nodded, but with a troubled look still. “On the way home, I got thinking about everything that happened,” he repeated. “Bringing Jess back with a bullet in his arm ... It could have been his heart!” Slim stared down at the surface of his desk as if it had been the very table on which Jonesy had doctored Jess.

“Yeah. I thought your heart was in y’ mouth when I was sewin’ him up. Ain’t never seen y’ hold someone’s hand like that before,” Jonesy told him drily.

Slim flushed slightly, but his head went up and he looked right back at Jonesy. “I guess I was trying to hold on to his life – keep the flame of it alight. I’d been pretty careless before, as if it didn’t matter if it was snuffed out.”

“Smokey and Jess’r both grown men, capable o’ makin’ their own decisions about their own lives. Y’ should be gettin’ t’ know the way Jess thinks by now,” Jonesy pointed out, “when he thinks first, which he quite often don’t! He ain’t never gonna let a little matter o’ a bullet or two change his mind about takin’ risks t’ carry out what he’s set his mind t’ do.”

“And he doesn’t change his mind easily,” Slim admitted.

“Especially if it’s for a friend.”

“Yeah. The way he handled Roany Bishop and the risks he took for Gil should have told me.”

“Told y’ he’s a friend worth havin’?” Jonesy asked softly.

“No!” Slim replied surprisingly. “That just told me he’s loyal. Loyal to the point of stupidity!”

“But –“ Jonesy’s voice rose in protest.

“But nothing, Jonesy! He’s loyal through and through. What tells me he’s a good friend is the _kind_ of people he’s loyal to. The kind of friends most of us would be only too glad to lose. People who broke his trust. People who just wanted to use him. People who would drag him down to where they were.”

“People who had the power t’ hurt him pretty bad,” the old man’s voice was barely a whisper.

“People who he had to lie for even ...” Slim’s voice trailed off too. He thought a little more and then said, “He doesn’t always give you a straight answer for himself. But once he’s given you his word, he won’t break it, whatever it costs him. That’s what makes him a good friend.”

They were both silent for a while.

Then Jonesy said, “You were gonna ask me somethin’?”

A deep frown furrowed Slim’s brow and he heaved in a deep breath. “People turn up here, looking for Jess.”

“Yeah. He’s got a lotta friends,” Jonesy agreed. “Some good, some not so good. But y’ worked that out for y’self.”

“Jess never talks about his own feelings, about what it means when they turn up.”

Jonesy considered for a moment. Jess had talked to him more than once, but he was not sure if discussing this now would help Slim in his dilemma or not. He raised an interrogatory eyebrow instead.

“He just gets on and does what needs to be done,” Slim went on doggedly. “But he’s said a couple of things ...”

“Yeah?”

“He said it was the man not the uniform that counted with him.”

“When the Indian boy died an’ Prescott got killed?”

“Yeah. It struck me later that ‘counting as the man you are’ was a pretty high standard.”

Jonesy smiled a little and said affectionately, “Slim, you ain’t never got any cause t’ be ashamed or fear the man y’ are won’t meet the highest standard set.”

“Thanks!”

Slim flushed again and was about to continue when Jonesy went on firmly, “It’s no more than God’s own truth. Y’ always true t’ yourself and the things y’ learnt from y’ pa. That’s enough f’ me.”

“But is it enough for Jess?” Slim blurted out the question which had been in his mind for a long time now.

“How not? Ain’t that enough f’ anyone?”

“He said something else. Twice now. He said sometimes a man had to think with more than his head. That was about Gil. Then not long ago, when he chose Stacie to help him, he said you had to be able to trust someone with all your heart.”

“Both o’ them were family,” Jonesy pointed out.

“I invited him to work here. Welcomed him into the house. To be part of our family. But I think I’ve made mistakes, made him feel he’s not so welcome now, now we know more about him.”

“Maybe. But just the fact that the two o’ y’ think differently ain’t gonna change him, is it? Y’ said y’self, once he makes up his mind he’s gonna stick with it. I reckon he understands how y’ feel about tellin’ the truth, even if that ain’t the way he goes about things. Seems t’ me he’s workin’ hard f’ your approval, not the other way round.”

A wry grin twitched Slim’s lips. “So I’m the one with the problem?”

Jonesy knew Slim was honest and deserved honesty. “Y’re the one with the fixed standards. An’ y’ sometimes set 'em so high, even you ain’t gonna reach 'em.” Jonesy regarded his young friend shrewdly for a moment, then went on, “That’s better than bein’ the kind o’ friend who’s just gonna break his trust or use him or drag him down or hurt him.”

“But I let Smokey down. I wasn’t ready to give enough.” Slim choked on the words, but forced himself to go on. “Am I going to be a good friend for Jess, Jonesy? One who can be trusted with the heart? That’s what I really wanted to ask.”

The old man got up stiffly and stood beside Slim at his desk. His hand touched Slim’s shoulder for a moment. “Gotta ask _him_ that, boy. An’ y’ ain’t never gonna find out unless y’ talk about it, the two o’ y’.”


	3. Chapter 3

#  **3**

“ _No man may earn his heart’s desire,_

_less first he brave the smoke and fire_.”

Nicholas Evans

\- _Talk about it!_ –

Easier said than done!

Sound advice is often the most difficult to follow. Not least when the sound advice takes you into territory where you have never ever ventured before, indeed which you have spent most of your life ignoring or denying the existence of. If someone had asked Slim to walk through fire, he would probably have done so more easily than have a conversation with one of his contemporaries about anything connected with emotions. It had been hard enough opening up to wise old Jonesy, who’d known him all his life and was as familiar as his own boots.

Jess, meanwhile, was wrestling with his respect for Smokey’s brand of friendship, his care for Slim’s feelings and his own desires. This made for an uncharacteristic degree of introspection. Jonesy had said he had to make his peace with Smokey. He was determined to do it, for he understood that if he harboured anything resembling jealousy of this prior relationship, it would undermine the foundation on which to build a future one. But it was far from simple. The flame of passion burned fiercely in his heart, even though he employed all his strength of will to keep it there and not let it scorch the fabric of daily life. If anything was to come of it, it had to happen naturally, in its own time.

– _But that ain’t makin’ it any easier!_ – A thought Jess had had more than once and would undoubtedly be repeating again.

It was ironic that two people who spent the waking hours of every day in each other’s company somehow managed not to undertake any conversation about the thoughts closest to their respective hearts.

But then, the two people were men.

Young men.

Who had not yet learnt the wisdom which comes with age and experience.

Experience they had in plenty between them, but not the kind which made for broaching deep feelings in the course of normal conversation. Consequently, although they both wanted to regain the easy companionship they had shared before, unspoken words also kept a current of residual tension running underneath the apparent smooth resumption of ‘business as usual’.

It was not that Jess didn’t want to talk – he’d been much relieved when he unburdened some of his fears to Jonesy - but the last time he had opened up the deepest thoughts of his heart was a long time ago. Close as he had been to his comrades and the _Salvajes,_ raw emotions had perforce been expressed physically because there was so little time of quiet or rest. Such time was precious and charged with the urgent potent instinct stirred up by having escaped immanent death together. It was only afterwards, when he’d met Chris, that he had begun to explore such things verbally and Chris was a whole different proposition. For a start, they had met when they were both in the same space of grief. And they were both similar in background and attitude. And Chris had a wealth of experience for Jess to draw on. Now he was on his own, wondering if he and Slim would ever get any further than a working relationship together. He felt like a fire banked down so tight that only the tiniest wisp of smoke could escape!

Ironically, it was wildfire and women which eventually brought about a conversation of sorts between them.

They had driven a small herd of young stock, which Slim had reluctantly sold to pay off some of his bank loan, to a spread north of Laramie. They were a couple of days on the trail and most of the time too occupied with vigilance over the lively young cows to do more than exchange a few grunts along with their snatched food and rest. Coming back should have been more leisurely, but Slim pushed on at a good pace because he wanted to call in on Sam Petrie on the way.

They were a mile or so from Petrie’s ranch when Jess pulled Zig to an abrupt halt and lifted a hand to stop Slim.

“Smoke!”

He pointed away to their right and sure enough thin plumes of smoke were rising into the clear sky. The tang of it struck their nostrils and even the faint sound of crackling flames reached their ears.

“Looks like wildfire,” Jess said, his whole body tense. “Is the ranch on that side o’ the road?”

“Yeah, most of the buildings,” Slim replied.

“They’re in trouble then!”

There was not much you could do once a fire had really taken hold except pray the wind would change.

“Let’s go!” Slim rapped out, but Jess had already spurred his horse into a gallop. The pair of them belted hell for leather down the road and found themselves in short order in the middle of a fire fight. As they skidded to a halt in the yard of the Petrie ranch they were greeted by a milling bunch of horses and other assorted stock.

Quick as lightning, Jess rode across to the gate into the nearest pasture and pulled it open. Then he and Slim drove horses, milking cows, goats, donkeys and even a couple of pigs through into the wide open space. With the livestock safe, they turned their attention to what the humans were doing.

The ranch stood relatively close to forest terrain but the owners had had the forethought to clear a wide space all around it to form a firebreak against just this eventuality. The tongue of fire heading towards them was fortunately narrow and the wind was light and sporadic. Nonetheless everyone was busy forming a bucket chain from the well and a nearby stream to soak the timber buildings and surrounding ground as best they could. It would be little defence if the fire really seized hold but it might prevent sparks settling in the first place.

Slim and Jess both jumped down, turned their horses into the pasture and ran to help. There followed an hour or more of heavy labour and hasty prayers before it became apparent the fire was burning out at the edge of the break. The wind had turned widdershins on itself and was blowing the flames back over the earth they had already scorched. The clouds of smoke lifted. They all stopped baling and stood, panting, dishevelled, exhausted but mightily relieved, in the middle of the yard.

The explosion shocked and shook them all. One moment everything was quiet except for heaving breaths and whispering wind. The next the barn on the other side of the road erupted into flames which took off half the roof and both doors. In an instant it was a roaring inferno.

The force of the blast and the shock drove everyone back to the shelter of the house.

Everyone except Jess.

In the second which elapsed before the rest of them moved, he started to sprint towards the barn.

“Jess!” Slim flung himself after his friend, managing to grab him round the waist and tackle him to the ground. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Lemme up!” Jess threw off his would-be saviour, leapt to his feet and flung up an arm to protect his face from the scorching heat. “Gotta gettem out!”

“Who?” Slim had sprung up too and clamped both hands down on Jess’s shoulders.

“What’s up?” Sam Petrie demanded, racing over to join them.

Jess stood rigid with tension, his face unbelievably white under his dark tan. “Count y’ folk, Sam!” he begged hoarsely. “Make sure they’re all out! Make sure the little uns are safe!”

His voice was so strained with urgency that Sam immediately turned and swiftly ran his eye over those crowding together at a safe distance.

“They’re all here, it’s fine!” he told Jess.

“Y’ sure?”

“Yeah. Everyone’s safe.”

Slim felt the gut-wrenching shudder which passed through Jess as he slumped in relief. He put both arms round the Texan, holding him firm. “It’s okay. Nobody’s hurt,” he reiterated reassuringly. “The little ones are all safe.”

The pair of them might have stayed like that for a long time, but the heat from the blazing barn drove them back to the comparative safety of the other side of the yard. Slim kept his arm round Jess, holding him until the shaking stopped. Finally Jess gave a quick nod of his head and muttered “Thanks!”. They both turned their attention back to the catastrophe.

It was a blessing the barn was on the other side of the road, nowhere near the house and the other outbuildings. Nonetheless, it was felt like a long time in which they kept watch for sparks and burning fragments which might yet spawn more fires. Actually, the blaze was so intense that the barn was reduced to ash and smouldering timber very quickly. This was doused with copious quantities of water and finally extinguished.

The conflagration must have been caused by a stray spark setting fire the hay and straw in the barn. This in turn ignited a small chest of detonators which, unluckily, was being transferred to a nearby mine. The result was a total loss for Sam and his family.

Sam stood stoically gazing at the blackened beams and glowing embers. He gave a resigned shrug. “It was too big and half rotten. Been meaning to replace it with something smaller and sturdier anyway.”

“Looks like y’ got a head start,” Jess remarked wryly. He seemed quite unperturbed by the fire now.

“Did you lose much fodder or equipment?” Slim asked practically.

“A bit,” Sam admitted, a worried frown creasing his forehead. “But we can probably replace most of it before winter.”

“Not if you don’t have a barn,” Slim pointed out. “And you’ll need help. I’ll send word out on my way back to Laramie. We’ll raise you a new barn and folks’ll pitch in to help you with fodder as well. Leave it to me.”

Sam’s face lightened considerably. “Thanks, Slim! You’re a good friend.”

“Amen to that,” Jess agreed softly. His face too was bright with admiration for the way Slim shouldered responsibility, even when he didn’t have to. It was not long before they were on the road again, for spreading word to ranches, homesteads and the town itself would take more time than they had planned for.

**> >>>> * <<<<<**

In a remarkably short time, the community of Laramie had rallied to the aid of the Petries. Equipment, building materials, tools, supplies, all came flooding in to the ranch, followed promptly by so many willing volunteers that it seemed the entire town and its neighbourhood had turned out to help.

Slim and Jess left at sunrise to ride north to make their contribution and, when they arrived, found the work well underway already. Sam did not want to replace the large barn, but opted instead for a smaller one and several other outbuildings. This made efficient use of the available labour and the buildings went up in a remarkably short time, given the abundance of ready materials, tools and workmen.

Not just the men had risen to the occasion. When the labourers could finally stand back to admire their handiwork, they found that behind their backs a veritable feast had been prepared, with the women of every household contributing their best home cooking and baking, not to mention brewing. Despite being tired and not a little dirty, the men fell to with a will – especially one Texan, whose ravening appetite was justified by the fact that he had nothing but a cup of coffee and a chunk of new bread since dawn. Later, when they were all replete with the bounteous provision, fiddles were mysteriously produced, along with a couple of pipes, a tambourine and even a guitar. No sooner had they struck up cheerfully than the dancing began. No sooner had the dancing begun than Slim and Jess were in trouble.

It was not the same trouble for both of them. It arose, the way such things do, with the matter of who should dance with whom. Good looking young men were naturally favoured not just by the unmarried young ladies, but by those whose spouses were otherwise occupied with slaking their thirst in home-brewed beer and cider.

Jess found himself neatly manoeuvred into the dancing by one of the more eligible of the daughters of the local pastor, who had rolled up his sleeves and applied a muscular Christianity with the best of them. Of his three daughters who had accompanied him, one was already married and the other rather young to be considering it. In his success in partnering the third – for whom there was no little competition among the young men – Jess recalled ironically that, according to Jonesy’s strictures, he shouldn’t get a partner at all, since he certainly was not wearing his ‘second best’ shirt. Nonetheless, he did his best to live up to the privilege without getting snared into the potential trouble of commitment to a single partner. Consequently, he concentrated on exerting all his charm in order to swap partners every couple of dances and it was therefore some time before he noticed Slim’s predicament.

Slim meanwhile found himself in the clutches, literally, of one of the more flighty of the married women. To give her her due, she could hardly be blamed for wanting some attention since her husband was drinking steadily and ignoring all other forms of sociability. Having secured Slim as a partner - against no little competition among the young women – the temporary widow had no intention of letting go of him after a couple of dances.

Presently the scratch band began to play more slowly, on the grounds that most of the male dancers had already expended considerable energy. It was at this point that Jess noticed the agonised appeal in Slim’s eyes as they swept past each other with their respective partners. He recognised at once that, contrary to reason or expectation, Slim was not having fun. He had no idea why Slim wanted out of the dancing, but he knew such an appeal would not have been made unless the need was both urgent and impossible for Slim to achieve on his own without a major upheaval and an embarrassing scene. Jess spent the rest of that dance paying only superficial attention to his own partner and thinking furiously about Slim’s.

The moment a pause came, Jess deftly and tactfully handed his partner on to another young man and strode purposefully over to Slim, who was looking highly embarrassed at the way his own was still leaning into his unwilling embrace.

“C’m on, partner! Y’ lookin’ mighty pale.” Jess grabbed Slim’s arm and pulled him, forcing the young woman to back off a little or become involved in an undignified tug of war. “Y’ know Jonesy said y’ gotta take care o’ that knee o’ yours an’ not put too much strain on it.”

“It’s fine,” Slim protested, puzzled and not realising immediately that he was being thrown a lifeline.

“So y’ always say!” Jess retorted. “But I’ll have t’ put up with y’ bellyachin’ about it tomorrow.” He turned to the temporary widow with his most innocent and appealing smile. “I sure beg y’ pardon, ma’am, but my friend here needs t’ stop dancin’ right away. In fact, I’d better get him a medicinal drink t’ numb the pain. It’s a long ride back an’ I’m not sure his leg will stand it ‘less we do something right now.”

So demonstrating once more his flair for creative lying, Jess hissed “Limp!” out of the corner of his mouth and steered Slim firmly away towards the ranch house, where Sam was watching all the activity and rejoicing in his yard with a satisfied grin. He looked up as Jess led Slim over and the smile became rather knowing.

“You sure had a lucky escape there, Slim!”

“I did?”

“Yeah. Ivor Turner’s been drinking like he’s one hell of a deep well. And you know what he’s like when he gets drunk!”

“Yeah!” Slim shuddered at the memory of the last time Ivor had busted up the saloon after an evening’s drinking. It would be unwise to antagonise him in such a state by being too friendly with his wife.

“We could do with a strong drink ourselves,” Jess said, “on account o’ Slim’s really bad leg. Jonesy’s orders. Medicinal whiskey is best.”

Sam’s grin got even broader. “Come on inside!” he invited. “I’ve got you two to thank for the fact that I’ve got a new barn and new supplies. I can make it a liquid thank you!”

Several drinks later it occurred to Slim that neither Sam nor the two of them could hide in the ranch house for the duration of the celebrations. “Thanks for the hospitality, Sam, but we can’t keep you from your guests.”

“I guess there’s at least two guests you’d like to avoid right now?” Sam grinned.

“Yeah. Best we head home. But I don’t want to make it too obvious. I’d rather keep on good terms with everyone if I can.”

Jess grinned a little at this. He was always happy to get into a fight if the occasion warranted it, but this one didn’t. It was better for Slim and Sam to find a tactful way for them to leave.

“Not a problem, Slim. Not if you don’t mind doing me a little favour?”

“Name it!” Slim responded promptly and trustfully.

“My old uncle Eli drove up from Laramie with a wagonload of his cronies. He’s had more than a bit to drink himself, and I don’t trust him to get them all home safely. If you don’t mind providing an escort, I’ll be genuinely grateful.”

“Consider it done!” Slim agreed. Rashly, as it turned out.

It took Sam and his wife a little while to round up Eli and his cargo of septuagenarians. Sam left Slim and Jess with the whiskey bottle, on the grounds that they had earned it in more ways than one. As it turned out, the return journey to Laramie made them pay for every drop they’d drunk – and earn some more!

Once farewells had been said and the wagon rolled off down the road, Slim and Jess, both by now feeling mellow and relaxed, anticipated nothing more than a gentle ride with the worst hazard being the dust thrown up by the horses.

They were soon to be showered with water instead. Crossing the first ford on the way, Eli allowed the horses to stop and drink. The combined weight of his friends caused the wagon to bed down in the muddy bottom. Slim and Jess had to rescue the occupants one by one, putting them on their own horses and leading them out of the water. Then they had to persuade the reluctant team to make the effort of getting the lightened wagon back to dry land. They were both soaked to the knees after this, but the whiskey had made them cheerful enough to think wet legs would dry off pretty soon. This optimism was reinforced by the celebratory drink Eli pressed on everyone.

At least now they would be able to roll along freely and at a fairly good pace.

So they did until Eli took a short cut across a patch of scrub in order to cut off a bend. Short cuts can make for long delays and this was no exception. The wagon became wedged between two trees. Backing it up could not be achieved without unloading the seniors – all of them rather merry by now from the copious supplies which Eli had stowed in the wagon. Then Slim had to guide the wagon and Jess had to cajole the horses into backing it to a point where it could safely be turned round.

Clearly succeeding in doing so called for the further celebratory draughts, which Eli insisted they all needed.

If they hadn’t all partaken of this particular drink, it might not have been necessary to stop for a comfort break a stretch further down the road. While the seniors were busy relieving themselves in the bushes, Slim and Jess felt that reducing the amount of alcohol the party was carrying might be a good idea. Obviously the best way to reduce the volume is to drink some.

Eventually the wagon got underway again, despite both passengers and driver feeling the need to compensate for the indignity of their sojourn in the undergrowth by another drink or two. Nonetheless, they all seemed very happy to hit the trail once more. Their confidence was infectious but misplaced.

It proved premature when Eli’s attention was distracted by the hilarity of his passengers and he managed steer too close to the edge of the road while attempting to avoid a rough stretch. He succeeded in driving the wagon into a patch of soft sand where it became seriously stuck. This meant unloading the elders once again, which in their more than inebriate state took an inordinate amount of time and effort. Then Slim and Jess had to push the wagon and cajole and urge the horses until it finally lurched free of the obstruction.

Clearly this achievement called for yet another celebratory drink - or several - which Eli hardly had to insist on at all.

As they started off again, Jess mumbled, “We ain’t riskin’ another stop. You take the off-side horse an’ I’ll take the near – if we can keep them on the road, the wagon should follow.”

Slim concurred with this reasoning and their progress thereafter was without incident, although it was accompanied by a good deal of raucous and tuneless singing from the wagon. So it was that they all arrived safely, if somewhat slowly, at Eli’s house in Laramie.

“You’ll come in and take one for the road!” Eli insisted, after the young men had helped the old men descend from the wagon. “Come on in. I’ll not take a refusal from you!”

One for the road seemed like the least compensation for all their effort.

Much, much later a chestnut horse and a bay headed down the twilit road to Cheyenne. The rider of the chestnut had had some difficulty in heaving himself into the saddle. The rider of the bay was apparently incapable of springing aboard with his usual hop. The rider of the chestnut showed a distinct inclination to lean forward and clasp his arms round his horse’s neck. The rider of the bay made some shift to haul him upright again, despite swaying in the saddle himself. It became necessary to use each other’s bodies as support at frequent intervals.

Consequently they rode along companionably in a warm and pleasant cloud generated by advanced intoxication.

Presently Jess inquired: “Is it me, Slim, or is it gettin’ very misty?”

“Nope. Just ... all ... blurry.”

Slim was wrong. It was indeed mist, faint strands occasionally drifting into hollows or winding about trees. Not enough to impede their progress. The alcohol was doing a very effective job at that.

They had not gone far from the town when Alamo stopped abruptly and Zig almost barged into him. As the horses shifted together, Jess’s thigh rubbed against Slim’s knee. He was not too drunk to appreciate the sensation but had no time to relish it.

“C’m on!” Slim mumbled, grabbing him by the vest while swaying precariously in the saddle and then sliding slowly but inexorably to the ground.

“What? Where-a-we-goin’?” Jess gasped as he was literally hauled out of Zig’s saddle, over Alamo’s and landed on Slim in a collapsed heap on the ground.

“C’m on!” Slim repeated, rolling Jess off him and scrambling to his feet. “Got ... a visit ... tomake.” Without any apparent effort, he used his grasp on Jess’s vest to lift the surprised Texan to his feet.

“Wh - wh - at?” Jess was still winded from the impact of the horns of two saddles, not to mention Slim’s stranglehold on his vest. It had somewhat dented the rosy glow of alcohol in his veins.

“Vis - it - ing Smokey!” Slim explained, slinging an arm round Jess’s shoulders and propelling him toward the graveyard. “C’m on!” He was repetitive but determined.

Jess let himself be guided, or rather hauled, through the gate and across the burial ground. A misty graveyard at dusk should have been more spooky than the alcohol made it. Jess’s attention, however, was not on the supernatural but on the wholly natural. The warm weight of the arm round his shoulders was both comforting and frustrating. It did more, however, for Slim’s balance than it did for the recipient’s pleasure. The tall rancher leaned heavily on his companion, occasionally stumbling on the uneven ground and ending up draped over Jess in a manner which was far more intimate than Slim probably realised.

“Okay, okay!” Jess grumbled as he struggled to get the two of them to their destination without a fall. Not that he would have minded rolling around on the ground with Slim, but it was cold and lumpy with graves and he’d have much preferred a fire-side rug. Also, even if inebriate and enamoured, his heartfelt respect for Slim and his feelings meant Jess was not going to let him collapse until they’d made it to Smokey. Or rather his grave.

The bizarre nature of this nocturnal visit did not occur to either of them. Slim genuinely wanted to acknowledge that Smokey had taught him how to act as a friend to Jess and Jess genuinely wanted to make clear that he was not jealous. It was, perhaps, regrettable that it required a considerable quantity of alcohol to embolden them to the point where they could express these feelings. But then – men – young men - and of course they truly intended no disrespect.

This was not entirely evident in the manner of their arrival, however, since Slim simply slumped beside the headstone and Jess stumbled to his knees next to him.

“C’m here!”

It was an improvement on “C’m on,” especially as Slim slung his arm round Jess again and clasped him tight.

“Learnt a lot from Smokey,” Slim confided, with careful articulation. “Learnt you have to spend time with your friend. Talk about things. Share. Feelings.” He paused, gasped in a deep breath and the next statement came out in a rush. “What’sinyourheart.”

“Yeah,” Jess responded softly, letting himself rest against that warm, hard body which was also, fortuitously, keeping most of him off the cold ground. “Yeah. Y’ surely do.”

“Smokey, are you listening?” Slim declared dramatically as he surged up to his knees, tumbling Jess back on his ass. “This is my friend, Jess. And I’m going to do better by him than I did for you. Going ... to ... earn ... thetrustofhisheart.”

Slim’s head dropped down and his body slumped forward as if his declaration had exhausted him. His chin rested on his chest and his arms on his knees. He fell silent.

Jess was struck silent too by the impact of what he had just heard. His heart was beating furiously enough to wake the dead all around them.

He rose cautiously to kneel beside Slim.

He reached out very slowly and laid a hand gently on the other man’s shoulder.

“Y’ already have the trust of my heart, Slim Sherman. Y’re a good man an’ y’ ain’t gonna act any other way.”

They were both silent. Kneeling on the cold earth beside Smokey’s tomb. Faint mist drifted over them, like the smoke of a fire kindled by honesty and acceptance.

It was some time before Jess realised that Slim was asleep.

“I guess y’re at peace with both of us now,” he chuckled softly.

Then he stretched out his free hand and brushed the grass of the grave smooth, while his other still held firm to Slim’s shoulder.

“Thank y’, Smokey. I’ll be the friend he needs, whatever he needs. An’ I ain’t gonna let him duck out or quit this time – f’ your sake an’ mine.”

A little while later, Jess shook Slim’s shoulder. “C’m on, partner! Time t’ get y’ back on Alamo and safely home.”

\- _Maybe we ain’t exactly partners yet, but we’re workin’ on it. That’s a promise!_ –

“Huh?” Slim got sleepily to his feet and allowed Jess to guide him back to where their mounts were patiently waiting. The doze in the graveyard seemed to have counteracted the incapacitating effect of the alcohol and Slim swung up into the saddle without mishap.

“Let’s go home,” Jess said again.

The chestnut at once set off at a gentle lope along the familiar road and his rider, mercifully, stayed upright this time. Jess hopped on to Zig and hastened to catch up with his friend. Behind them peace and quiet wrapped the sleeping graveyard once more, for the only sounds were the soft thud of hooves and the lingering echo of the heartfelt words Jess had murmured only to himself:

“I wonder how much y’ gonna remember come mornin’?”

* * *

This story is based characters from the ' _Laramie_ ' series and the creative inspiration of the original authors, producers and actors is respectfully acknowledged.

This story is part of an m/m series of stories, _Partners_ , as indicated in the Archive Warnings and is intended for those who like this imaginative interpretation. The stories are strictly about fictional characters and not intended to reflect on the original actors.

‘Short cuts make long delays’ – borrowed from _Fellowship of the Ring,_ JRR Tolkien


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